Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(31)

“You can’t possibly think I don’t already know all that.”

“You’re not serious,” Preacher said to Paige. “That can’t be right.”

“That’s what Mel says,” she told him.

“Wow. Who’d ever think that the way to get pregnant is by not having sex.” It seemed as though he might’ve hung his head.

“John, it’s up to you. We don’t have to do this. Right now, anyway. I’m not insisting…”

“No, we’ll do it. We want a baby. I want a baby as much as you do and getting your period makes you cry. So we’ll do it.” He shook his head. “How’m I gonna know when it’s okay?”

“Well—a few days between. You know? And just once, John, on those days. Except on ovulation day.” She grinned at him. “You can go crazy on ovulation day.”

“Damn, I’m going to miss it,” he moaned.

“John, I don’t have any facts to support this, but I don’t think everyone is having as much sex as we are….”

He had a confused look on his face. “Well, why not?”

She laughed at him. “Oh, John…”

“Did you get your little thing? Your little ovulation thing?”

“I’m going to run over to Fortuna later for some supplies for the bar and I’ll pick up a couple of kits, exactly the kind we need, because Mel said it could take longer than just a couple of months for us to make this work—if that’s the problem.”

“More than a couple of months?” he asked weakly.

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, Paige was saying to herself. “We try this for two or three months,” she said. “If it doesn’t work by then, we’ll get you tested, maybe try something else.”

He put his head in his hand. “Wow,” he said. Then, lifting his head bravely, he said, “It’s okay. We can do it.”

She put a hand on his arm. “John, ovulation day is just around the corner. A couple of weeks. That’s your reward.”

“I promise you, Paige. I’m going to make it your reward. I promise.”

Oh my, she thought. This was going to be interesting.

“I think we’re going to have to get a sitter for Christopher and close the bar on ovulation day,” he said.

Before Mel and Jack could leave for Ricky’s graduation from basic training, a newcomer appeared in Virgin River. The lunch crowd had cleared out and Jack was behind the bar when a young woman came in. She had reddish-blond hair and that golden complexion that suggested freckles. Her lips were peach colored and she was smiling so brightly that Jack tilted his head, returning the smile, wondering who this might be. She came right up to the bar and leaned on it. “Jack Sheridan?” she asked.

“That’s me.”

She put out her hand. “I’m Vanessa Rutledge. Matt Rutledge’s wife. We have some people in common.”

He grabbed her hand. “You bet we do, one being your husband. How’s he doing?”

“He’s back in the Middle East, I’m afraid. He’s been gone a few months. I’m staying with my dad while he’s there, but Matt told me I’d better come here right away, look you up, find out when your boys are coming around, because Matt’s best friend and our best man is Paul Haggerty.”

“That’s right,” Jack said. “I remember, now that you mention it. I had those two boys in my squad way back—they were just kids. Paul, Matt, Preacher, Mike Valenzuela. Then Paul and the others were in my platoon on my last assignment in Iraq, and we’re still tight. Paul was here not very long ago, and due back again soon. We always try to catch some of hunting season, however many can make it.”

“Paul and Matt went to school together,” she said. “They enlisted together, went into basic and served a couple of tours together. In fact, they were together the night I met my husband.”

“Oh, Preacher and Mike are going to love this,” Jack said. He turned away from her and hit the wall that separated the bar from the kitchen to bring Preacher out.

“I’ve heard all about Preacher,” she said. “Paul talked about you guys and this little bar a lot. It was such a weird coincidence that my dad found this place to settle.”

“Where is your dad?”

“He bought an old ranch on the edge of town a couple of years ago, right before his last assignment. He was having some work done to renovate it before he retired, then brought my little brother and their horses out here from D.C. over summer.”

“Last assignment?”

“He retired from the Army. Major General Walter Booth.”

Amused surprise registered on Jack’s face. “A grunt general let his daughter marry an enlisted jarhead?”

She lifted one pretty eyebrow, aquamarine eyes sparkling, and said, “I don’t take orders from anyone.” And they both laughed.

Preacher came out of the back, frowning at having been summoned by the pounding. He met with the gleaming smile of the pretty redhead at the bar and he softened his expression somewhat, curiously.

Vanessa was not startled by the big man’s size or surly expression. Neither was she surprised when his features softened into a curious smile. “You must be Preacher,” she said. She put out a hand. “I’d know you anywhere, except I heard you were big and bald. Now you’re just big. Vanessa Rutledge—Matt Rutledge’s wife.”